


Getting Inked

by RaiofSunshine



Series: Valastor Week NSFW [4]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Human, Desk Sex, Flirting, Height Differences, M/M, Office Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25819828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaiofSunshine/pseuds/RaiofSunshine
Summary: Alastor and Valentino are always two steps away from the bedroom tango. So maybe, it's time someone took those steps.
Relationships: Alastor/Valentino (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Valastor Week NSFW [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868941
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Getting Inked

**Author's Note:**

> Day 4: Height Difference

"That cute fuckin' brat thinks I don't see that sway in his hips. Wait 'til I give him a piece of me." The front door closed resoundly, perfume of caffeinenated sugar wafting into the parlour.

"Fuck Val, ya just went t' get coffee and already we on this?" Snatching a cup from his boss man, the bleach blonde secretary snickered mischievously.

Ever tall and equally infinite in charm, the sunny dreadlocked man snorted, a smirk tugging on his lips. "Bambi was in line ahead of me."

"Ooh, ya started off ya day glimpsin' the goods then~"

Val threw his head back in a laugh before setting the drinks down on the counter. "Real hard to enjoy the view when that jabber-jaw is busy insultin' me."

The secretary couldn't disguise the knowing twinkle in his eyes. "But ya  _ did _ get t' see it?"

" 'Course I did. Way that waist was movin', ooooh fuck it's a crime to have such a cute ass ontop of all that sass."

Coming out from the back rooms, a man dressed in vibrance and shimmer followed the scent of fresh drinks. "Ally goading you this early? Damn, dude must have needed the bean bad."

"If caffeine was all it took to pacify him, I'd be more than happy to wake him up with a pot." Valentino rolled his eyes, taking a long drag from the steaming cup.

Sputtering into his frothy cream, the man lounging behind the front desk laughed, "Lil' early in the mornin' t' be gettin' sprung, ain't it~?"

Holding up a middle finger in reply, the man's gaze had been drawn outside the front window, magnetized to the shop across the street.

A homey little building in crocodile and trimmed with muted gold, the lettering on the front of the edifice was in a purple that toed the line to black.  _ Fleur-de-Lis. _ The accompanying symbol blossomed just below.

Through one of its windows, Valentino could see Alastor was weaving flowers into a wreath, slim fingers crossing each other as his tongue poked between his lips. Candid moments like this were favorites of his to steal with shutter-snap blinks, cataloging the memory away for the private theater of his daydreams.

~ ~ ~ ~

Linked peonies may as well have been thick golden dreads, his twisting fingers stuttering at the image his brain had conjured. Exhaling shakily, it was quite a chore to calm his pulse.

His gaze drifted over to the coffee growing cold and untouched. Was that needle monger enjoying his right now?

No. It didn't matter.  _ He _ didn't matter.

The morning had been perfectly peaceful when he left to get something for his tired eyes. However, fate was apparently having a laugh at his expense, because when the bell above the café door went off behind him, he didn't need to turn to see who it was.

Mandarin oil. Nutmeg. Saffron. Vanilla. The faux pheromones enticed temptation while simultaneously setting his nerves aflame. How he  _ loathed _ the way the essence stirred a restlessness in his hips, like some neglected jezebel. Maybe, if he ignored the towering presence behind him, he could get on with his day.

The furtively low whistle coming from too close told him with a singeing shiver, that no, that wasn't going to happen.

"Mm, coffee  _ and  _ a snack. Lucky me~"

Keeping his gaze forward, he tossed words over his shoulder like warding salt. "Don't you ever tire of being a slave to your lecherous thoughts?"

"Naw Bambi, but I'd trade them in to be ya slave anyday." Sinful promise hid in a snicker.

What an idea that was. Ah, no no. He was better than that, he wouldn't give in to his plastic charms.

"Really? At least then, maybe you could do something useful with your time."

That got a reaction, ears picking up a vexed huff, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Glancing back, he had to tilt his head a fraction to make eye contact with the man crowding his space. "Just as it sounds, you kindergartener."

Valentino stepped dangerously closer, as if trying to intimidate him with his larger frame. "My fuckin' job ain't useless, tulip toes." 

The body heat rolling off him in waves was intoxicating in its intensity, clouding Alastor's judgement a tad. "Tattoos are just mistakes you cannot run from. Nothing more."

A response was given in a growl, personal bubble burst as he was pressed against. The outline of a denim-dressed snare struck something in his core like the hammer of a blacksmith, causing him to spin around and push Valentino away.

"Have you ever  _ heard _ of space?" Narrowing eyes to deadly slits, he knew he was panting from a maddening mix of indescribable heat and indignation.

They stared each other down in sweltering silence, until the barista behind the counter cleared his throat. So busy in their exchange, they hadn't even noticed that Alastor was next. As well as that they had gained an audience.

Gritted teeth and forced grin, he hurried through the order, trying to ignore the whispers of the other customers. Shame had never painted his face so clearly as he rushed out of there, leaving behind the judging eyes and the pinnacle of his embarrassment.

~ ~ ~ ~

He wasn't sure what drove him to the possible equivalence of suicide.

What he  _ did _ know, was that he was getting real fucking tired of this coy dance they had going.

Thus, that's how he found himself, blocking Alastor against the entry to his now-closed business,  XXX Ink locked up for the night behind him.

"Stop playin' with me, Bambi."

The shorter man was facing the door, body riddled with tension throughout, his heavy breathing amplified by the object in front of him. "Playing with you..?"

"Don't act innocent. I ain't fuckin' dumb, like ya seem to think."

"What...what do you mean, Valentino?"

"I mean…" He pushed his hips forward, pinning the rail thin waist against the wood with no trouble. "Ya words always say one thing, but ya body language is a whole lot more fuckin' honest."

Alastor gasped out against the barrier, fingers curling fruitlessly for purchase against the solid surface. "A-ah! No...not..."

"Not  _ what _ ? Not true?" He ground against the pert bottom, his turgid flesh teasing through their clothing.

A sweet whimper bounced off the obstacle between them and privacy, the previously stubborn captive pressing against the friction he offered. "N-not here, please!"

Leaning down, his tongue traced the lobe of a flushed ear wickedly before lightly nipping it. "Then unlock this door. Right now."

Keys jingled chaotically in Alastor's rush to obey, his trembling hand taking more than one try to get it open. When the shop welcomed them in, Valentino was quick to lift its owner, kicking the door shut behind them as he strode with purpose to the dark office in the back .

Their clothes couldn't come off fast enough, his hurry nearly costing him the heart-dotted fur of his leather jacket. Fabric was flung hastily, figures stumbling in the pitch black quarters until hands were scrambling for their polarised body heat.

Alastor whined up at him when he couldn't comfortably wrap his arms around his neck, "You are...far too big."

Palms sought out those perfect mounds of muscles, chuckling as he hiked the brat up his body. "Oh baby boy, ya ain't seen big yet...but ya gonna feel it~"

Indecent vow beckoned a shuddering moan, legs tightening around him. "Please...please give it to me-EEE!" A keen pierced the darkness as a single digit was worked inside. 

He devoured every luxurious sound with lips and tongue, his expert finger eventually joined by an assistant for the prep work. Stretched, relaxed, made pliable, he was persistent in his manual labor.

Alastor's hunger only seemed to get more insatiable when he curled into that magic bundle, pulling away from their fever kiss to growl like a feral animal.

"Take me! Right this instant, or I swear to-NNH!!" Nails dug sharp in his back, the stinging only provoking him further as he pushed his violent swelling inside.

He couldn't calm his frenzied hips, quads snapping with an insanely overpowering drive to conquer. Slapping thighs on skin, sobbing and greedy pleas, the room that was so professional in the sunlight was bathed in the orchestra of their vulgar gluttony.

In dire need of stability, he moved them in the darkness until he felt his legs make contact with the desk, and let Alastor down. No complaints were heard, the florist falling back on his workspace and pulling him closer with his ankles.

Knowing what the surface was used for during the day cranked the raging inferno in him up higher, leaning over the dainty owner's body to grab hold of the opposite edge of the desk. The new source of leverage for his pummeling thrusts caused the wood to rock in place threateningly, but was ignored in favor of attending to the body atop it.

Alastor's wailing was reaching a pitch, hands fumbling to hold onto anything for support. When he finally arrived at the peak, it was with a cacophony of squealing and distressed moaning, velvety vice grip careening himself off the precipice of ecstasy in solidarity.

Magma churned from inside and flowed into the willing recipient, the repeated pumps deep inside causing timid mewls. His arms shook as he held the object of his fantasies tight, fearing Alastor might evaporate with the fading pleasure.

In the mess of sweat, aching, and gasping pants, the florist still had enough energy to laugh in exhaustion. "...that slave position is still open."


End file.
